


The Smell of Roses

by grumpyphoenix



Series: Brain Salad [19]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hedging around Wincest, Not Beta Read, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 07:37:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15881532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpyphoenix/pseuds/grumpyphoenix
Summary: Sam thinks about Jessica and has an unhappy revelation.





	The Smell of Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Spn Pilot

 

It was years later when he finally made the connection. Even after the revelation that most of his friends and loved ones from college had been demons, the thought that  _ she _ would have been one too had never crossed his mind. Small things made it feel like a distant possibility, like maybe he could keep this one thing intact, and the memories bubble up and burst-sulfur-noxious into his consciousness when he doesn’t want them now. 

The smell of her shampoo, the one thing she splurged on despite clipping coupons like a pensioner. It made her hair soft and bright like a halo. It smelled like a garden, and the scent of flowers lingered on her pillow long after she’d left in the morning. Moving into their apartment scoured Sam, leaving him a moody wreck. He wept into her shoulder, wrapped close in the smell of roses. Later he would sweat his pain out of his pores as he thrust into her, whispering her name in awe and wonder. Her eyes were dark and endless in the shadows of their tiny bedroom, her shining hair spread out beneath her.  

No matter how close she’d wound him around her, it began to unravel second his brother pressed him into the bare wood of their kitchen floor, and fell apart after he turned the tables, gazing down at his brother’s magnetic grin. She tried to keep him close, asking him to stay. Just for the weekend. Just until his law school interview. He stood in their haven, his  _ home _ , the first place he was willing to give that name, and he listened to her. He looked at all those damn cacti she kept collecting in tiny pots, the pretty bedspread that she loved, and the mess of her clothing. He kissed her and inhaled the scent of her, and told himself he could come home again. 

It wasn’t anything special that ignited his thoughts. Packing to leave a case, Dean leaving to start the car, and Sam is overwhelmed with the feeling of soft leather under his hands, preparing to leave his home. His home with her. He remembers saying the words, he would be back in time, of course he would. He still packed everything that was important to him in that bag. If he thought about that at all in the intervening years, he would tell himself that it was his upbringing. He never owned a lot because it would weigh him down. Because nothing was permanent. Maybe, though, he thinks. Maybe. He knew.

When he brings the idea up to Dean, he can see a flicker of pity in his eyes. Dean figured it out long ago, but doesn’t want to say it. All the demons saw the writing on the wall. No amount of leggy blonde could compete with fighting his brother in the dark of his kitchen, flipping him over and pinning him like they were back in in time; their father saying ‘good-do-it-again’ for the hundredth time while they wiped sweat out of their teenaged eyes and pretended nothing was wrong.

Alone in his room, he sweats into his his bed and thinks of Ruby, and the smell of roses in her soft black hair.


End file.
